


Event Horizon

by SpaceWaffleHouseTM



Series: One Shots from the Waffle House [23]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Force Bond (Star Wars), Humor, No Pregnancy, Pining, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22539697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceWaffleHouseTM/pseuds/SpaceWaffleHouseTM
Summary: Rey runs into Kylo Ren on a mission for the Resistance, and they have to work together against their wishes. This would be simple... if working together didn't involve pretending to be married, sharing a hotel room, and a lot of unresolved feelings.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: One Shots from the Waffle House [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1298357
Comments: 94
Kudos: 487
Collections: For one is both and both are one in love: The Reylo Fanfiction Anthology's Valentine's Day Exchange





	Event Horizon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [apisa_b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apisa_b/gifts).



> This was such a simple prompt but it really took on a life and got away from me and it was a lot of fun to write!

This mission is already a failure. 

There is one room left in a hotel so big that six hundred people can stay in it. One, singular room, in a space of six hundred. It’s what she gets for attempting to go anywhere on Cantonica in the planet’s summertime, but she still wishes it were different. She wishes there was more than one room, because now she and Kylo Ren are stuck together, staring each other down as they realize that they have only one option. 

They will fight each other to win this room and get kicked out, or they will have to share. It would be mutually beneficial to their causes to share it, because as she knows well, this hotel is _the_ location where spies gather like it’s nobody’s business. The First Order pays its spies handsomely, if she can catch anyone—if he can catch anyone—they both stand a better shot, but _Kriff,_ she doesn’t want him to get even the slightest leg up in this war. 

There’s a large part of her that’s still pissed at him, and that makes up most of her if she’s being honest, but another part, a small part that isn’t nearly as dead as she thinks it is, is thrilled at the prospect of sharing that room—of seeing him again. Something about having him near makes a part of her feel at peace that hasn’t felt that way in a long time, and she can try to deny it out loud, but in her own head, she can’t. 

Before she can say anything, Kylo turns to look at her. “That family is about to leave.”

“So?”

“I-I have a terrible idea.”

“What is it?”

“If either of us is going to succeed on this mission, we have to be here,” he tells her, then he takes a deep breath. “Neither of us can return empty-handed and I don’t want to kill you.”

“I—I can’t say I want to kill you either,” she admits. “And we can’t pull our lightsabers anyway without being caught.”

“If I asked you to follow my lead, would you?”

She pauses, looking him up and down, then inquisition fills her gaze as her eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

Another moment passes, then without warning, he takes her hand, and places it on his arm in the crook of his elbow as if they’re strolling like some _couple_. A part of her becomes aware of his plan then, but she’s still in denial, still almost hoping he won’t do what she thinks he’s going to do until she’s at the front counter with him, and he says the words. “My wife and I would like a room.”

 _And there it is,_ the moment she knows she can’t take anything back. If she denies being married to him, they both lose. No one wins in a situation where they drop the illusion. 

Though it terrifies her, Rey leans against his arm, resting her head on his shoulder as he continues speaking with the concierge. The man behind the counter looks at the two of them, then he scoffs as he types something into a holo-pad, then hands him a room key. “Tenth floor, fourth room on your right,” he says,” then he looks them up and down, grunting quietly to himself as she and Ben make their way around him toward the lifts. 

“We need to establish a story,” he tells her, pressing the button that will take them both up. 

“What?”

“How did we meet? How long have we been married? Why don’t we wear rings?” He takes in a deep breath. “Other intimate details.”

Scoffing, Rey watches the elevator doors open, then they step in together, and she glares at him. “We don’t _have_ other intimate details.”

“The public needs to think we do. That’s our cover now. We are newlyweds, maybe even honeymooners,” he tells her, then he laughs, resting a hand over the one she still has wrapped around the crook of his elbow. “So, Mrs. Ren—”

“ _Mrs. Ren!”_

“That’s what you’d be if you married me.”

“We can’t use our real names, Kylo,” she hisses, his chosen name feeling foreign on her tongue, but until he shows her a sign that he’s ever going to be Ben again, she’s rolling with it. “So we need to use something less conspicuous.”

“Fine. Do you have any suggestions?”

A smirk blossoms on her face as a million ideas flash in front of her mind before she starts spitting out possible last names for them. “Organa?” she asks, looking up into his eyes as his breath catches in his throat. 

“Stop.”

“Skywalker? We could be Ben and Rey Skywalker.” She places a hand on his chest, turning to face him as Ben’s lower lip quivers, a classic giveaway of his emotions, the ones he always fails to keep buried underneath the surface. 

“Anything but that.”

“Solo, then,” she replies, then she grips the fabric of his tunic in her fist, bunches it up so that he cannot escape her without tearing it wide open, and glares up at him. “Ben and Rey Solo.”

His breathing stutters as he looks down at her, his eyes never leaving hers the entire time. “Rey…”

“What’s it going to be?”

“Not Skywalker. Half the galaxy knows the legend, it’s too noticeable. So is my mother’s name. If we absolutely have to use one of those names you listed—“

“We do.”

“I want to use Solo. If my father made it up, then so can we.” He then steps back, and she lets go of him as he leans against the lift wall, a haunted look in his eyes all of a sudden as memories she can’t fully see dart in front of them. “I’ll be Ben Solo.”

“Good,” she tells him, then she clears her throat. “We met on a jungle planet—“

“I thought we were supposed to lie—“

“We met on a kriffing jungle planet. We both got tired of the bar we were in, so we escaped to the jungle and you started flirting,” she says, imagining a perfect scenario, another life where she’s gotten to know the scoundrel Ben Solo, the true son of Han. She could’ve loved him then, and maybe this marriage, this scenario they’re entering into, could be real. “I thought you were oddly charming in spite of everything and we both had had a bit of wine so we started kissing. I was the best night of your life.”

“But was I the best night of yours?”

She thinks of the hut, of the warmth of his hand, and in spite of the lie she’s attempting to conjure, she can’t help but tell him the truth. “Yes.”

“Great. We engaged in a lengthy courtship of several months while smuggling from various First Order _and_ Resistance forces, then I asked you to marry me and we just got married on Naboo.”

“Then why are we honeymooning on Cantonica?”

“Hmm?”

“If we wed on a planet like Naboo, you’d think we’d never leave.”

“We had business on Cantonica and heard it was lovely this time of year,” he replies, then he shrugs. “I don’t know, I figured saying we’d married on Naboo was better than saying we’d had a wedding here.”

Rey sighs, then she clears her throat. “Fine, we married on Naboo and came here, we’re traveling around the galaxy for our honeymoon.” The elevator doors open, and she steps out ahead of him, hearing and feeling the deep sigh he gives in response through their bond. “And we are both going to have to stop brooding. You in particular.”

A dry laugh escapes him as he walks ahead of her, heading to that fourth room on the right with the key held firmly in his hand. “ _I_ have the problem with brooding? _You_ are the one who spends every conversation we have glaring at me.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t such an arse,” she hisses as they approach the door, and he unlocks the room, a scowl slowly distorting his handsome features as he pushes it open, and they step inside. “If you had just come with me when I went to you—“

He says nothing as he takes her hand abruptly, and pulls her inside, closing the door with a wave of his hand as the force ripples angrily around them. It slams shut more loudly than she thinks he meant to slam it, and both of them flinch from the sound it makes. For a moment, they just stand in silence, and as his eyes meet hers, she forgets that she’d ever started that sentence—forgets that any words had ever been spoken between them, and all she remembers is the moment their eyes locked and now, when they’re both breathing heavily and still staring at one another. 

It is a silent conversation of the most intense sort. Through just his eyes alone, and she imagines it is the same for him, she can see a world of pain and longing—pain at the betrayal he’d felt in the throne room when she’d tried to steal Luke’s lightsaber from his hand, longing for the timeline in which she’d said, “yes,” and another emotion, a third one she doesn’t know because it isn’t one she’s ever experienced from anyone but him. 

An emotion that defies all logic and meaning. 

_You know why._

His breathing, his whole body, shudders, and he points a finger toward her face, mouth shifting in that way specific to only him as he prepares to give her his response. “You—“ He backs off for a second, deciding that’s not quite right, and his hand drops to his side as well. “We probably shouldn’t speak about what’s happened between us—about how we ended things on the Supremacy.”

“Why not? We talk about it all the time when the force connects us.”

“This is reality. We’re actually together. We can’t just wait for the force to separate us when things get tense,” he tells her, then he shakes his head. “Neither of us left that ship with what we wanted. For the time being, we need to—“

“Let the past _die_?” she growls, then she moves past him and into the main part of the room before he can say another word, taking in what they’ve been given as he finally shuts up and does the same. 

The room is spacious at least. There are varying sofas and carpets and tables placed throughout it. The primary source of light comes from golden, flickering candles, designed to create an air of intimacy found by the typical honeymoon suite, and it casts the whole world into shadows and faint light. 

Even now as she looks back at Kylo’s face, she can see it causing him to glow in places, making him look every bit the ethereal prince she’d seen when she’d first watched him unmask. It’s a flattering light, and it forces her to acknowledge that a part of her finds him stunning, a visual marvel that she finds difficult to wrench her eyes from. She can see the color of his eyes in the candlelight, can witness the gold dancing within them, and the feelings that stirs are frightening. 

They are not nearly as frightening, though, as what Kylo says next, pointing out the one detail of the room she’d barely taken stock of. “There’s one bed.” 

Her gaze snaps to the far side of the room, and her blood runs cold as she realizes that there is indeed only one mattress and none of the various pieces of furniture lain about the room are large enough to sleep on. She’s slept on floors before, and she’s sure he’s also had worse, but the idea of sharing a bed with him is just so _intimate_ that a shiver runs through her. 

“So there is,” she replies, then she looks out the window, where moonlight is shining down on the distant water, realizing that not only is there one bed, but night has long since fallen—the stars had come out before she’d landed—and they will soon have to decide how they’re going to use it. “At least it’s big enough for the both of us.”

As she turns around, Rey has the pleasure of watching his eyes widen to the point where she thinks they might pop out of their sockets. “Are you suggesting we—?”

“Share it? Yes. Contrary to your beliefs, I don’t loathe you so much that I want you to sleep on the floor.” 

Kylo still looks thoroughly surprised, but he doesn’t seem to want to argue. He wants to sleep on that floor or on one of the too small sofas as much as she does. “If you’re all right with it.”

“I am.”

An awkward mix between a grimace and a smirk crosses his face, then he begins removing his gloves, pinching the leather of his left glove between the fingers of his right hand. Neither of them says anything as he slips it off, revealing the pale skin of his hand to her for the first time since they were in the hut together, then she reaches down, and undoes the laces of her boots, never taking her eyes off of him—and he does the same for her—as they remove anything that will be uncomfortable for them to sleep in. 

Her fingers begin to tremble mysteriously as she undoes the leather at her wrist and her arm wraps, and she finds herself hypnotized when he lets the black leather of his cape fall to the ground at his feet. There’s something so intimate about watching him disrobe, like for a second, even when they’re alone, the illusion of their marriage still stands. In spite of no longer having to pretend for the sake of others, she and Ben are somehow still wed, still husband and wife, and it makes her think there must be some universe out there where this is very much real—they are married and she isn’t sure she hates that idea as much as she should. 

In another life, that’s the boy who touched her hand and told her she wasn’t alone as if it was a vow, as if he himself would personally see to it that she would always be in company. In that life he shows her his true soul in large doses, not just small glimpses, and she finds herself loved in his arms daily. She shouldn’t want that life, but as he watches her remove the leather band from her arm, she knows that she does. 

Somewhere beyond this war, maybe when it’s all over, if they haven’t killed each other, maybe she should ask him to make good on making her Rey Organa, Rey Solo, Rey Skywalker—someone whose heart has been taken. 

Kylo’s breath hitches as her leather band falls to the floor, and for half a second, she forgets why, then she looks down, and sees the scar she was given in Snoke’s throne room—the one that makes her think of their two hands reaching out for each other across the vast expanse of space. Both of them shiver, then she looks up, watching as he walks silently around to her side of the room—when had he taken off his shoes?—and outstretches a hand toward her. His eyes are shinier than usual as he looks down at the old wound, which nearly blends into her skin now the way the scar she’d given him blends into his, and she holds her breath as his bare fingers drift closer and closer until his warmth brushes her skin, and her whole body feels a surge of electricity— _like touching a live wire in the wreck of a starship._

The touch is so tender, and the first she’s felt from him in several months, and she can’t help but close her eyes against it in an odd sort of pleasure. His hand presses against it a little harder, his fingers splaying out over her upper arm as one of them traces the shape of it, and she can see herself in his memory receiving this wound, a burning hot sensation coming from her own memory as they both recall that fight. They’d been something of legend, an epic of their own making— _fantastic_ —and for just a few moments, light and dark had come together to break them both free. 

“Rey…” he breathes, his voice breaking, and she knows she’s trembling as his other hand comes up and caresses her cheek, but her eyes still don’t open. If she looks into his, if she lets herself glimpse the tenderness in his eyes, she will abandon her mission and give in to the thoughts she had that night in the hut. 

Her chest shudders with every breath, but eventually, she finds the will to speak. “I—I think we both need to get some sleep.”

Kylo is trembling, too, now. His fingers are shivering against her skin as if he’s cold, but she knows he’s impossibly warm. She can feel his warmth drifting closer to her, approaching with every passing second he moves, and her whole body is on alert, wondering what’s about to happen, feeling him leaning closer, and wondering if he’s closing his eyes, too. “I think you’re right.”

 _Damn him_. She feels spellbound, her mind knowing that logically she shouldn’t do this with him, shouldn’t even let him touch her, but her whole body is screaming for this, it is begging and pleading with her to let him in, and she is losing this battle faster than she cares to admit. Still he moves closer, seeming as drawn to her as she is to him, two magnets helplessly drawn toward one another, an asteroid ready to strike a planet, or maybe a whole star system into a black hole. 

Have they reached its event horizon yet? Have they reached the point of no return?

“We—we should put the candles out,” she whispers, feeling his warmth mere inches from her face, and knowing if she doesn’t stop now, she’s going to be kissed by someone she should never let kiss her—even if she really wants him to. 

A heavy sigh escapes him, then he steps back, and he is no longer touching her. Slowly, her eyes blink open to watch him as he looks around the room at all the candles, then nods to himself, walking around to the side of the bed he’s decided will be his before he holds up a hand. She follows suit, but takes hold of the sheets, folding them back so she can get into bed as she watches him extinguish the flames through the force.

For a split second, energy ripples throughout the room, then it’s gone, and they’re now plunged into darkness together, their only light source that of a distant moon. As it is when their bond activates, the only sounds in the room soon become the ones they make, and right now, that’s the sound of rustling fabric and creaking bed springs as they both settle into the mattress. There’s plenty of space between them, but instead of being satisfying or comforting, it just feels empty, and if it weren’t for her determination to have _some_ success in this mission, she’d turn around and ask him to hold her. 

Of course, she is determined, and so she remains still, focusing on anything but the now awkward tension that still lingers in the room. 

“Goodnight, Rey,” she hears him say after a few seconds, his voice sounding more shy and innocent than ever. 

Stunned, but not entirely surprised, she lets the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile. “Goodnight, Ben.”

And with that, they both let their eyes drift shut, rolling over onto their sides facing away from each other as they try their best to get some sleep. 

*

It’s embarrassingly easy to fall asleep that night. For the past several weeks it’s taken Rey several hours of meditating to calm herself enough to even consider sleep an option, but for some reason, here on Cantonica with the leader of the enemy she’s supposed to be fighting in her bed, she has slept like a kriffing baby. 

The way she wakes up makes her want to _continue_ sleeping. She feels _nice_ and _warm_ , and a bunch of other adjectives that ignite something fuzzy within her that she’d long thought dead. Strong arms are wrapped around her waist, one hand resting lazily over her abdomen and one cupping her breast a little more firmly, but not in a way that’s uncomfortable. A leg has wedged itself between hers, but to be fair to the leg, her foot has hooked around its calf, so she’s also to blame for that at least. 

Against the back of her neck, she can feel hot breath ghosting over her skin, and a slightly sweaty face has buried itself into her hair. Through the force, she can sense the face is wearing a smile even in sleep. She cannot see the smile, but oh, it’s there, and she wishes she could see it—could see Ben’s smile—

_Ben’s smile. Ben. Kylo. Kylo Ren is in her bed. That’s who’s holding her. Kylo Ren is in her bed because they pretended to be married to get intel and now he’s spooning her._

_Shit._

Rey’s eyes snap open faster than the Falcon going into light speed, and she starts breathing a little heavily as she realizes, looking down, that one of her hands is covering his. The hand lying over her abdomen is being held by one of her own as she laces her fingers with it, holding onto it as if she got afraid in the night that he would disappear. 

This was exactly what she’d found herself wanting before bed, so why isn’t she overjoyed that it had happened?

The mission, the stupid, bloody mission that she suddenly desperately doesn’t want to be on. _Kriff_ , she wants to let him hold her, she wants to turn around and see the smile on his face so badly, but they both have roles to play and spies to expose. There isn’t time for affection. 

“Kylo,” she whispers, shaking the hand she’s holding as she lifts her head from the pillow. “Kylo, wake up.”

He stirs slightly, but doesn’t wake, and she doesn’t have time for him to be slow even if the little groan he gives her upon the repetition of his name is oddly endearing. It shouldn’t be. She should hate him. _Damn him._

“Kylo, damn it, get up, we have work to do.”

“Mmm,” he moans softly, burrowing his face further into her hair, which has fallen out of its three buns in the night, and is now lying loose in waves around her head. “ _Warm_.”

Rolling her eyes—even though she’s thinking the same thing—Rey tries to think of anything to say that could possibly get him to wake up and back away from her, then after a few seconds of deliberation, it comes to her. She’s been inside his head, Kylo has just as much inexperience as she does, he’s just as clueless and cautious around the subjects of kissing and sex—in spite of what they’d both almost let happen last night—as she is. Realizing where one of his hands is… 

She clears her throat. “Supreme Leader, your hand is on my tit,” she tells him, and it’s like magic, his hand is no longer on her chest, and his entire body has sped away from hers as if he is a lightning bolt. Both of them are standing by the time it’s over, panting at one another as they realize what’s just happened. 

“I-I am so sorry,” he breathes, and she can’t help but giggle at how pink his cheeks are. 

“You’re blushing.”

“I might be,” he replies dryly, then he looks around the room. “We don’t have time to dwell on it.”

“No, we don’t. We wasted enough time last night, we need to get down to the bar, the town, and start talking to people,” she says, then she starts picking up her things from the floor, watching as he follows suit, and they both begin to dress for the day. “Should we split up or stay together?”

“We should do both off and on, really sell the illusion of our marriage.” He grunts slightly as he puts on one of his boots, then he reaches for the other. “We should probably find ourselves wedding rings.”

“ _Wedding rings?”_

“A newly married couple without rings?”

“You make a fair point.”

“Great, we can just get a couple of cheap ones at one of those jewelry shops down the street. Nothing too expensive, just enough to know that we’re both taken and only socializing to engage in friendly conversation.”

The idea of being taken with him sends another shiver down her spine, and Rey takes in a deep breath as she shoves on her boots, and watches him reach for his gloves, preparing to cover the very finger he’s about to claim needs a ring. “Why bother getting you a ring, though, if you’re going to be wearing gloves?”

Kylo looks down at the hand he’s about to put a glove on, then slowly sets it back down on the ground. A bemused expression crosses his face as he looks at her, then reaches for the cape he left on the ground. “You also make a good point.”

She feels her cheeks flush, and so as she puts on her arm wraps and leather bands, she turns away from him, fighting back the urge to allow another heated moment like last night to slip through the cracks. They can’t afford to make a mistake like that again. The mission is too crucial. 

“Let’s get to work,” she tells him, then they finish putting on their things, she grabs the room key from where he’d left it on his nightstand, and together, they make their way into the main part of town. 

*

They find the rings they’ll be wearing at the first shop they go into. It doesn’t take them long—this isn’t a real marriage, after all, effort doesn’t need to be put in—to find two simple gold bands to put on their fingers, and to leave the shop feeling both oddly satisfied and slightly uncomfortable. Looking down at the metal on her finger, though, she can’t help but take stock of how right this feels. Something about wearing a ring gifted to her by Kylo makes butterflies flutter in her stomach, but she forces herself to tamper them down as the two of them walk back toward the hotel. 

They have an investigation to begin. 

As usual, the lobby is in full swing, the parties already alight with life even though the sun only rose an hour ago. Here on Cantonica, it seems, fun doesn’t have to wait until nightfall. It’s just a shame they’re not here to have fun. 

This is all business, but if the tension from last night that she can still feel vibrating in her bones is anything to go by, there is still a chance for it to turn to pleasure. She just hopes she can catch a spy or two first. 

“How do we want to do this? Together first, or apart?” she asks him, looking around the room for signs of anyone who already looks drunk enough to spill every secret they’re hiding. 

“Together. We can separate later,” he tells her, then he leans forward, and presses a kiss to her forehead. She knows they’re just pretending, but she still closes her eyes against the contact, leaning into it. “And remember, we’re madly in love.”

Rey snorts, but it sounds oddly like denial of a firm truth. “I’m sure we are.”

“Why do I get the feeling that this is how you’d be if you actually were my wife?”

“I don’t know, marry me and find out,” she replies casually, though thinking about it like that makes her cheeks turn crimson all over again as they walk towards the nearest bar. What if they actually do get married someday? Will it be like this? All banter and teasing and light jokes? Will being married to him feel natural? Like breathing? Or will it be a complete disaster that wrecks them both and leaves them empty?

Kylo laughs as he holds up his hand, his ring shining in the gold-hued lights. “It would appear I already did.”

“Then buy me a drink, my dear husband,” she says sarcastically, because she’ll be damned if she’s not milking this feigned marriage for all it’s worth. 

“Why, if you insist, my dear wife,” he replies, voice equally sarcastic as they take their seats at the bar, and she fights off a giggle, forcing herself to remain serious, sober, and focused as the real work begins. 

*

The day goes by with surprising ease. Together, she and Kylo get the names of two First Order allied spies and one resistance spy—whom she warns the base about the second she slips away to the fresher—and separated her number doubles. The mission undoubtedly becomes a success even before noon, but they’re both still at it anyway, especially when they drift back together and begin enchanting people with false tales of their romance. 

At some point, Kylo weaves a tale to a group they’ve bonded with of how when he proposed he had no ring, and so he made one out of the pine straw from a tree on a moon in the Endor system, one which disintegrated not long after the trip, but she holds dear in her heart nonetheless. She, in turn, adds to that story how he’d cried during the proposal, how he’d been a weeping, blubbering mess of emotions, and the group around them looks utterly enthralled. 

The trust it earns them gives away the names of two more spies on the First Order’s side, much to Kylo’s dismay, but Rey leaves it thoroughly satisfied. 

Later on, she spins a tale of their first kiss, telling how they’d been watching a fireworks show and he’d suddenly been far more fascinating than the exploding lights. As she speaks, he brushes a piece of her hair—which she’d never put back up after they’d woken that morning—back behind her ear, looking at her with a tenderness that defies words as he adds to the story, saying she’d been shy at first, then somehow they’d wound up tangled beneath the stars. 

What strikes her as odd, though, is she really wants to be tangled beneath the stars with him. She wants it more than anything. She shouldn’t want it, but she does. 

By day’s end, they’ve both caught around half a dozen spies each, and she hates the idea of helping him catch the Resistance spies, but he has helped her catch First Order spies as well. They’ve gone above and beyond for each other, and if Rey’s being honest, she’s learned to be okay with it. She doesn’t plan on executing anyone betraying her cause, and through the bond she can sense he plans on doing the same. The worst punishment these people will face is some form of exile or imprisonment. They will not know death—not before their time. 

As the evening drags on, they’ve both given up on trying to find more spies, and have elected to fully join the reverie, both needing a break from keeping their act so serious. Together, she and Kylo wind up dancing, talking, and laughing with people, and she can’t help but notice that it’s the first night in ages where she’s consistently had a smile on her face. What makes that even better is the realization that Kylo has been smiling, too. It hasn’t quite reached his eyes yet, but he’s warming up. 

After so long in the dark, a piece of Ben Solo has been allowed to walk in the light, and she can’t help but notice all his little smiles seem like hints of sunshine peaking over the horizon, offering hints of the coming dawn. It’s almost sort of beautiful, and she thinks again about what would happen if this was real. Would she know Ben’s true smile? Would she find out what he was like when he was truly happy? 

It’s a question she ponders through the remainder of the night, thinking about it until they decide to turn in and get some sleep. They ride the lift up to their room still leaning against each other even though they’ve been left alone. Rey leans her head on his shoulder as his arm wraps around her waist so his hand is holding her hip, and they both breathe deeply as they use the back wall to support themselves. 

“Today was productive,” he says, breaking the silence and causing her eyes to snap open. 

She hadn’t even noticed them falling shut. 

“Yeah, it was,” she replies, then she yawns, hands grasping at his arm as she realizes one of the last things keeping her standing is Kylo. _Shit,_ it really has been a long day, hasn’t it? “A good day.”

The supreme leader—or is he Ben right now… he’s been so sweet to her all afternoon—chuckles, then he sighs as he places a hand over one of hers. “You tired?”

“Yeah, could you tell?”

“Just a bit. Might’ve been the yawn.”

“Ah, kriff, the yawn,” she breathes, her energy picking up again as they engage in a light bit of banter. “You’ve caught me, Supreme Leader, thwarted my plans.”

“Mmm, whatever am I going to do with you?”

“Or what am I going to do with you? Maybe I’m faking it and this is all a trap,” she teases as the elevator doors open, and they step out into their hallway, turning to the right as they make their way toward their room. “I can be quite the liar when I want to be.”

“Like when you didn’t want to take my hand?” he asks, but before she can think up a clever response or even try to refute it, she’s interrupted by a sound coming from the room next to theirs. 

At first, the sound is difficult to place, but then she remembers how she’d felt last night when Kylo’s hands had been on her scar and cheek, and she realizes what is happening in that room. Moans of pleasure drift into the hallway, accompanied by swears and the distant sound of flesh meeting flesh as a headboard slams back against the wall. 

“Are—are they—?” Kylo asks, and she feels her jaw go slack as she awkwardly gives him a nod, then they both stare at each other for a moment, equally slack-jawed and wide-eyed—a hilarious result of their own inexperience—before they both begin helplessly snickering as they stare at one another. “And that’s—that’s our room?”

“It is,” Rey replies as they keep walking, and she unlocks the door, pushing it open before they walk into their room, and the sound of the headboard slamming against the wall as well as the moans is somehow intensified. “ _Kriff…_ ” 

That’s going to get annoying fast. She and Kylo are going to have to get used to the sound of ball-slapping, loud sex really quickly or find some other solution. Looking at him, though, as they approach their bed, she knows he’d rather find another solution for this. There has to be something better than just putting up with it, and between the two of them, she knows they’ll come up with a solution. In fact, she’s just about to suggest they bang on the wall or go over there and knock, when her faux-husband holds up a finger. 

_Kriff, has he always looked so much like his father?_

“I have an idea,” he says, then he looks down at the ground, and she can’t help but notice he almost appears a little sheepish. “We’re meant to be sharing this as a honeymoon suite, right?” 

“Yes…”

“And newlyweds would be doing… a lot more than just sleeping.”

“... _yes_ …”

With a snap of his fingers, the candles in the room turn on, and Kylo looks at her with mischief in his eyes as the light begins to dance in his irises. In less than three seconds, she finds herself hypnotized, already lost to the heat of his gaze as the corners of his mouth tilt up into a little smirk. “We could make the headboard hit the wall, toss out a few awkward moans… make them realize they’re being—“

“Are you proposing that we pretend to have sex?”

“Why not? Have we got anything better to do?” 

“I just… we—“

“Rey,” he says, then he steps in her direction, and his gloveless hands reach out for hers, covering both of her palms with just his fingers alone as he twines them around her knuckles. “We don’t have to, but I think it would be a more valuable use of our time than just listening to those people in the room next door.”

“Maybe.”

“You’re all right with it then?” he asks, eyes searching hers for any sign that she isn’t, and that she’s going to regret this in the morning. “You don’t mind pretending to sleep with me?”

“You’re my fake husband, I should’ve had fake sex with you last night,” she mutters as she brings him over to the bed, then lets go of his hands to fall back onto it, watching as he does the same before they both crawl onto the mattress, and she places her hands on the headboard. “Come on.”

As she watches him grin, she realizes that as the time passes, as he bonds further with her, the mask of Kylo Ren is slowly fading away. Right now, he’s more like Ben Solo than ever, and she realizes that for the first time since the hut on Ahch To, he’s right there beside her. Breathing in deeply, she watches as he places his hands on the headboard, then together, they push, and it gives a solid **_THUMP!_ **between the beats of the people doing the same thing—but their actions are very much real—in the next room. Both of them giggle, then they do it again, but this time, Rey throws her head back into the pillow and moans obscenely loudly. 

If she senses the arousal leaking into the bond from Ben’s side, she doesn’t acknowledge it. Neither does he, and so they keep banging the headboard of the bed against the wall, slamming it hard enough that she wonders if these walls can dent as they work tirelessly to annoy their neighbors. 

A minute later, Ben copies her, but he plays as dirty as she does, maybe more, and so when he lets out a cry of pleasure, it’s to scream her name, his voice pitchy and breathless at the end of it, and she prays he can’t sense _her_ arousal in the bond. Knowing him, and knowing the force, he probably can. 

They’re both so screwed if they keep this up, and she knows this, but right now they can just pretend this is all to drive their neighbors insane and that it’s not a contest to see who can turn the other on more. “Ben,” she breathes, repeating it over and over again as she puts a little more effort into that thumping headboard, making it slam back against the wall with every breath. 

He just grunts in response, his voice rumbling low as he swears profusely, enough that she wonders where the hell he’d learned such filthy things as she starts muttering filthy words she’d only ever heard in holos. Both of them are trying to outdo the other, and she watches as he ups the game, crawling over to her as she continues slamming the headboard into the wall on the offbeat between their neighbors’ slams. Her breath hitches as she feels him ask permission through their bond, and in spite of how much she wants to win, she gives it to him, allowing Ben to climb on top of her. 

It feels like her legs move of their own accord as he settles over her, wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer so that they’re actually in the proper position—or one of the proper positions, at least—to do this. “Ben,” she breathes again, feeling as if she might be about to lose her mind as he settles between her legs, and begins to move over her as if he’s actually fucking her into this mattress, as if he is actually making love to his wife and not just doing something petty to spite their annoying neighbors. 

She honestly doubts the other two people have even noticed, but she’s not sure, she’s too lost in Ben, in looking into his eyes, and letting her hands come up into his hair, twining her fingers in his waves to care. This is supposed to be fake, but as his breathy little moans leave him, she can’t help but notice that it’s starting to feel very, very frighteningly real, and in spite of how much she shouldn’t want this, in spite of her inexperience telling her she should find this scary, she is ready—a part of her even finds it exciting. 

Slowly, she notices the background noise of the neighbors actually fucking disappearing even as they continue slamming the headboard into the wall, as they continue to feign a sexual encounter that’s becoming increasingly real. She can tell he’s noticing it, too, and slowly their movements start coming to a stop, both of them panting hard as they try and process what’s happening. 

This is no longer just a fun prank, this has become serious, and they have just started something that they both know they cannot stop completely. That future she envisioned for them comes to her mind again, and she can almost see what it’s like for them to actually be married again, for them to actually become one—not just in the force. 

Goosebumps rise on her arms as she looks into his eyes, and she knows he feels it, too. Has he also imagined a future for them? Has he been wondering as much as she has about actually being wed? She knows he’s joked about it with her, but she’s starting to realize he means it as much as she does. 

_When this war ends, let’s get married_.

“Does-does this mean we’ve consummated our marriage?” Rey asks quietly, then she shivers as one of his hands reaches up, and brushes a stray piece of her hair out of her eyes. 

In all her life, no one has ever looked at her the way Ben is now. His eyes betray his entire state of mind, and right now, she can see everything, including the depth of what he feels for her always—but most of all what he feels for her at this moment. Like her, he doesn’t know when they’ll see each other again after this or if they will be the ones to end one another on the battlefield. It’s all a mystery, but tonight?

Tonight they have some degree of freedom she doesn’t know whether or not they’ll have again before the war’s end, and so she stares up at Ben, panting hard as she waits for his answer to her question. Both of them are deadly quiet, but again she can feel him asking permission through the force, and she watches his eyes flicker down to her lips, which are still struggling to pass air over them as she recovers from what they’d just pretended to do. 

Gathering her courage, Rey gives him a nod even though she shouldn’t, but she’s already succeeded in her mission, she can have this moment. In spite of everything, she misses Ben and the future they could’ve had together—is it so bad to pretend for one moment that they can have it? Is it so horrible of her to want it still? For the next several hours at least, she is going to bask in the light provided by his presence, she’s going to revel in the warmth of his body heat, and she is going to vow to him that someday when all of this is over, maybe they’ll get married for real. 

Slowly, surely, Ben begins to lean down, his hand still caressing her cheek as she watches his eyes drift shut. Hers follow suit, then she’s tilting her head up to meet him, taking in one last shaky breath as she prepares to be kissed for the first time, as they _both_ anticipate the first brush of their lips. 

It happens just a few seconds later. At first all she knows is the flickering of candlelight behind her eyelids, then she feels his warmth hovering just beyond her own skin, then she can feel his body trembling over hers as he finally closes the last of the distance between them, and presses his lips to hers. 

Their bond positively comes _alive_. Her entire body feels as if it’s been jolted with electricity, but not in a way that’s painful, it’s much more pleasant than that. It feels like somehow, she’s become even more in tune with his heart and mind, like they’ve become more connected than they ever could’ve imagined. Doors are unlocking that she hadn’t even known existed, and as she begins to move her mouth against his, their lips fitting like they were made for each other, she knows somewhere deep inside that her soul and his are the same. They are two halves of the same whole, bonded so intimately she cannot tell where her soul ends and his begins, she cannot tell who truly possesses the light and who truly possesses the dark. 

They are one. They are equal. They are balance. They are the same. 

Rey’s hands quickly find his hair, fingers weaving their way through it as the kiss becomes more heated with the mutual growing confidence between them. Together, they’re learning how to kiss, learning what the other person likes and dislikes, what makes them tick, and by the time her nails are gently grazing his scalp, she feels like even their thoughts have blended together. It’s to the point where she isn’t sure which of them had the thought to start removing the most uncomfortable pieces of their clothing, but she knows they’re undressing all the same. 

Her hands reach for Ben’s belt first, breaking from his hair to undo the blasted piece of leather, which she discards while still kissing him before she moves on to the zipper at the top of his tunic. This is when they break away, but only because they both desperately need air, and not just the two-second gasps they’ve been stealing so far. They need real, thorough gulps of oxygen, and she can sense that he wants to watch her as she starts to remove his clothes. 

As the zipper passes his waist—slowly revealing a comfortable looking black sweater beneath its confines—she finds herself giggling as he leans down to press a kiss to the line of her jaw. The sensation isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s unfamiliar, and she becomes used to it by the second time he does it, pressing another kiss closer to her neck. It feels nice to be kissed by him, to experience all these little touches and gestures of affection. She thinks that this will be what Ben is like as her actual husband, and not just a man she’s sharing a hotel room with for a night or two. 

They’ve only got until tomorrow, and they’re going to make the most of that time. 

Rey finishes her work on his tunic, and slowly, he leans back to allow her to peel it from his shoulders before he shifts to remove it entirely. The tunic soon joins his belt on the floor, then he looks down at her again, suddenly seeming nervous. She can feel him trembling above her, the part of his body covering hers creating little tremors that shake the entire bed. “It’s okay,” she whispers to him, resting a hand on his cheek as he looks into her eyes, and she can sense the question he wants to ask before he asks it. “Can we remove this first?” 

She tugs at the fabric of his sweater with the hand that isn’t on his face, and he is the one who laughs softly this time as he reaches back, fisting the fabric behind his neck in his hand before he tugs the sweater over his head, and tosses it into the pile of clothes they’re starting to build. His hair is thoroughly mussed when he’s done, and she wants nothing more than to run her hands through it. 

Of course, she’s also just exposed his entire upper body with the removal of his sweater, and though she loves his hair, loves the waves and tangled she creates within it, she’s been wanting to put her hands on his chest for a year. From the first moment she’d seen him like that, when the force had first started connecting them, she’s been fighting back the urge to touch him. 

Slowly, her eyes make their way down his body, her hands drifting down with them until they reach his shoulders, then she pauses, looking back up as they both breathe heavily. “Can—can I touch you?”

His lower lip quivers, but he nods, giving her silent permission to run her hands down from his shoulders. Goosebumps are forming along his arms and even on the muscles of his chest as her fingertips begin to brush over them. She’s rewarded with a tiny gasp as her fingers brush over his nipples, then she runs them lower, tracing the contours of his abdomen. 

It’s the most tender thing she’s ever done to another person, and she already feels emotions welling up within her as she touches him. Does he know through all of these touches what she feels for him? Is he aware of all the things she’s thinking—how much she wants this to not just last for tonight, but forever?

“Rey,” he whispers, drawing her attention back to him again—to his eyes—then she feels his hand at her arm wraps, removing them and the cuff she wears art her wrist, then her waist, fingers wrapping around her back as he reaches for the fabric wrapped around her like a belt. She is shivering like a tiny earthquake as he begins to pull it loose, slowly tugging at the white drapes until he pulls the fabric out from under her. 

Once again, her breath catches as he leans down to press a kiss to the edge of her jaw and neck, pressing another to the column of her throat as the pile of white beside them grows larger and larger with every passing second. A third kiss is given right over where her pulse is racing, and she gasps loudly as he takes the skin ever so gently between his lips, and sucks a mark into it. 

For all the world knows with a mark like that, she belongs with someone, and she can’t help but find that she agrees with the sentiment. Purple and red paint the picture that she is taken, that her heart and body have known the love and touch of someone else, and she knows that by the time this is over, he will leave bearing a similar mark. 

They will both belong to each other, as is the will of their minds—as is the will of _the force_. 

The pile beside their heads is finished off as he removes his hand from the space between them, and drops the sea of white before pushing it off of the bed, and refocusing his attention on the shirt she still wears. As he slips his hand down by her hip, their eyes meet again, and she can see the gold in his irises ignite like a fire, the candlelight flickering within them to make his gaze seem as if it actually carries a flame. It’s something she could get lost in, and she nearly does until she feels his fingers snaking their way up the skin of her abdomen, pushing her shirt up as he goes. 

His movements are slow and sensual, but also remarkably shy, especially as he gets close to her breasts. It makes her realize again how much they both lack in experience, how much they’re relying on their bond to tell each other what they like as they learn together how to do this. Ben is shaking badly, just like she is, as she pushes him back, reaching down to remove the shirt herself before she tosses it in with the growing pile of their clothes. 

Now they’re both shirtless, and the only thing covering her chest is the breastband that she’s bound her chest with since teenagerhood. She can see him staring at it, hesitation filling in beside the kindness in his gaze as he looks over her the way she’d looked over him. “You can take this off, too,” she assures him, her voice barely a whisper—it’s all she can do to keep from losing her bravery entirely. As much as she wants this, as much as her mind and body are screaming for her to get him inside of her, she knows this is also a little scary. Neither of them has ever been this exposed, this vulnerable, and beneath the love and kindness she can feel coming from them both, there is also fear. 

Ben gives her another nod, fingers shaking as they skim up the skin of her waist toward her chest, and for a few seconds, he seems confident, like he almost knows what he’s doing. It quickly becomes apparent, though, that he doesn’t, and she feels a smile start blossoming on her face as she watches his morph into a perfect expression of confusion and terror. “I… I don’t know how,” he whispers, then she bursts into laughter, the peals echoing off the walls as she buries a hand in his hair, and begins stroking the waves as he looks to her with eyes that beg, _help._

More laughter escapes her, and soon he joins in, the corners of his mouth spreading into a genuine, wonderful smile as he accepts his defeat, and begins laughing with her. As she brushes a strand of hair from his eyes, she thinks the smile on her face will never leave. This is the happiest she’s ever felt, and for a moment she forgets about why and how they ended up here, and just lets herself _be_ with him. 

For tonight, Rey is letting go of everything that is holding her back. 

“I’ll show you,” she says, then her hands untangle themselves from his hair, and she reaches for the fabric binding her chest, untucking it in the front before she arches her back into him, and begins removing the last of the fabric keeping her upper half clothed. 

Ben is attentive as she does this, eyes never leaving her body as he takes into account every detail of the way she removes her band. Tiny swears escape him as she removes enough of it to reveal her breasts, nipples hardening as the cool air of the room descends on them, and his stare remains drawn to her chest, looking over every little freckle on her exposed skin as she tosses the band into the pile of their clothing. “ _Holy shit_ ,” he whispers, one of his hands snaking up her waist again until his fingertips are brushing up against the underside of her breast. 

She laughs again as his fingers slowly make their way up until his whole hand is covering her left breast, then they pause, his eyes flicking up to hers one last time to make sure this is okay before he swipes his thumb over her nipple, causing her to sigh just before he kisses her again. 

It makes her head spin in ways she couldn’t have imagined. This isn’t going to get her off, but _kriff_ , it feels nice, and combined with the passionate yet tender kisses he’s sharing with her, it feels absolutely incredible. A hum escapes her into the kiss as his hand moves on, and does the same thing to her other breast, pinching her nipple between two fingers in a way that makes her want to _sing._

He’s a very intuitive partner, she realizes, but she also knows that he is a part of her—a literal piece of her soul—and of course, in spite of his inexperience, he knows at least a little of what she likes. This becomes obvious when his kisses abandon her lips once again, and he begins leaving a trail down her jaw, her neck, and she knows what he’s about to do but she’s still gasping softly for air when the last of his kisses land on the swell of her breast. 

“Ben,” she whispers, letting his name fall from her lips over and over again as his kisses get closer to her nipple, then she gasps as he takes it into his mouth, her hands fisting into his hair a little more tightly than usual as his tongue swirls around it. 

A small hum from him vibrates against her skin as he traces every single tiny ridge and crevice, exploring her as much as he’s attempting to pleasure her. She can feel him at the edges of her mind, pressing in only enough to learn what she likes and what she doesn’t, and _kriff,_ if she wasn’t falling for him before, she is now. 

He shouldn’t be good at this, but _force_ , he is. He’s very good at it. Whether or not he’ll be good at everything else she has yet to determine, but he is at least _excellent_ at this. He even proves just as good when he lets go of her first nipple, and begins pressing kisses across her chest en route to the second, driving her crazy with each touch of his lips to her bare skin. 

It’s frightening how tender he is, how gentle. She has seen this man strike down and kill people without hesitation, has seen him in the heat of battle when he didn’t much resemble a human, but instead a frightened animal, and yet right now he is vulnerable and affectionate beyond all belief. Ben is truly something incredible when he isn’t hiding behind the mask of Kylo Ren, and she wonders how long she’ll have to wait before that mask finally comes off for good. 

When will he finally destroy it like he’d destroyed its physical form? 

She doesn’t have time to dwell on it; his lips latch around her second nipple, and as his tongue makes contact with her skin, as he sucks her into his mouth, she’s gripping his hair again like it’s her lifeline, and all the thoughts of the Supreme Leader are forgotten. There’s just her, and there’s just ben. 

The war and their roles don’t exist. They have been stripped down to their bare essentials, Ben and Rey, man and woman, and they exist as nothing beyond that. 

It becomes easier when Ben stops sucking on her nipple, and he begins to trail his kisses down further across the plane of her abdominal muscles, his fingers reaching toward the button of her trousers as he watches her reaction. Both of them are still shaking badly as he moves down, but she still manages to lift her hips just enough for him to begin tugging the fabric down, to bring both her pants and underwear down to her thighs. She’s quickly becoming fully naked, but she can sense his emotions through the bond, can sense the way he’s telling her that it’s all right—he’s frightened, too. 

His kisses persist in spite of his fear, and soon she feels him on her hip bone and the inside of her thigh. Briefly, he pulls away to allow her to kick off the trousers and underwear, but then he returns once they’ve joined the clothing pile, his kisses starting midway down her thighs, and slowly working their way up. It takes her a second to realize what he’s doing, but once she knows, she feels a fresh rush of adrenaline course through her veins. 

He’s preparing her for what comes later, but he also has a priority of seeing her come apart first. At the very least, Ben Solo is a very, very considerate lover. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, reminding her of when she’d asked him the same thing minutes ago. 

Rey nods, then she watches as he plants kiss after kiss on her inner thigh. Each touch is featherlight, as if she’s made of something delicate. He knows she’s strong, he’s seen her strength first hand, but he’s doing it this way to prove a point—he loves her. He may not ever say it out loud, and maybe she won’t either until the war is over and the unanswered marriage proposal between them becomes applicable, but it is true. 

They are deeply connected on every level including the physical right now, and that makes it impossible to hide their true feelings. Rey isn’t sure she’d want to hide her feelings either way. 

When his lips finally land where she needs them most, she’s hit with the startling realization that she is incredibly _wet._ He presses that first tiny, open-mouthed kiss to her cunt, and suddenly she knows—she can feel it against his skin—that she is very, very wet. She is wet enough that she thinks he may not even need to do this for her to be ready to take him, but then his tongue slips out from between his lips, then it licks up from her entrance to her clit, and she realizes that he just _wants_ to do this. 

As she writhes beneath him upon that first touch, she knows his first priority is making her fall apart beneath his tongue, and she doesn’t know where he learned to do this with his lack of experience, but she’s grateful for it nonetheless. He licks another stripe, and it’s a little less tactful than the first, but it still has her sighing his name as her hands begin stroking his hair. Her head falls back into the pillow, her mind already descending into pure bliss as he does it again and again, then his tongue presses its way inside of her, and she thinks she sees the whole galaxy as her eyes clench shut. 

His name falls from her lips at least half a dozen times, and she starts thinking it will become the only word she knows as he fucks her with his tongue, as his hand sprays out over her lower abdominal muscles to keep her hips from bucking up into his face. The realization that she’s lost that much control makes her blush, and she laughs as she props her head up on one arm, tilting her gaze down to watch him as his tongue leaves her cunt, and moves back to flicking lazily at her clit. 

At least, that’s what he does at first. Soon after, he wraps his hand around the back of her thigh, and lifts it up so that her leg is now resting over his shoulder, allowing him better access. From this new angle, he presses kisses between her legs again, and just as she starts wondering if maybe he’s done, if he’s ready to move on to something else, his lips close around her clit and he begins to suck in earnest. 

The stars in her vision begin to spin as a loud, unholy moan falls from her mouth. Her whole body seems to freeze, like she’s lost control of it, but in the best possible way. What he’s doing to her is driving her so close to the edge, she’s not even sure the noises—from the tiny gasps and pants to obscene moans—coming from her make sense anymore. 

“Where have you been all my life?” she asks breathlessly, causing him to laugh against her clit as his tongue comes into play again, licking another deep, long stripe until she shudders beneath him. “ _Kriff_ , please marry me.”

Another laugh, then he takes a break from going down on her, and suddenly there’s a softness to his gaze again, one that makes her realize that even though she was half-joking, even though they’ve been half-joking all day—he’s saying yes. “If you insist.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Not if I insist. If we both survive this war, if you make me come tonight, let’s get married.”

His lower lip trembles, but his eyes never break from hers as he nods, whispering another, “yes,” before he descends upon her again, and his tongue swirls around her clit in a way that makes her want to confess a world of truths and lies that conflict violently with one another. 

She loves him. She hates him. She wants to live out her days with him. She wants to kill him. She wants to marry him. 

The last one is impossibly true, and she thinks about it as he sucks her clit into his mouth, the image of them tying a string around their held hands filling her mind as waves of pleasure wash over her, and suddenly she comes apart beneath his touch. He has made her come already, he’s fulfilled the first part of his promise to get her to come, and she wonders how she got this lucky—how _they_ got this lucky. 

Her mind is a mess as she comes down from her high, becoming aware that she’s chanting his name over and over again as he continues licking furiously at her cunt, continuing to devour her as if somehow he’s aware that she can be more spent than she is, as if he’s trying to get every last possible second of an orgasm out of her. 

_Kriff,_ she’s in love with him, and she can’t tell if she thought it because she has just come harder than she ever has in her life or if it’s because she means it. The answer, of course, becomes obvious when he begins crawling up her body, his eyes full of hunger and an underlying current of the affection she knows he carries for her, and she knows again that it is not only true but mutual. 

“Ben, I…”

“Don’t say it,” he breathes, then he places a hand on her cheek, his thumb stroking her lower lip as he tries to get his bearings in the aftermath of what’s just happened. “Neither of us will be able to leave.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“The war needs to be fought so it can be over. If Hux had the helm…” He shakes his head. “It would all go to hell.”

Swallowing nervously, she nods, then she holds the base of his skull in both hands, and presses a kiss to his forehead. “I know,” she whispers, then she shakes her head. “We shouldn’t talk about it, not when you just—“

“I can do it again if we stop talking,” he says, then she grins, and before she can stop herself she’s kissing him again, and she can taste herself on his lips as her tongue comes out between them, and sweeps along the edge of his before seeking access to his mouth. 

With a hunger she has only just learned he possesses, he allows her in, kissing her as thoroughly as she is kissing him. It’s not enough for either of them, though; they both know they’re nowhere near done yet, and so she reaches down between them, her hands drifting down from his head to his shoulders, past the broad expanse of his chest, and all the way down to the waistband of his trousers.

The trembling starts up again as she undoes the clasp at the top, then works his zipper down until it hits the end of its tracks, causing them both to shudder with their whole bodies as they break the kiss to allow their eyes to meet. It’s another cliff’s edge they’ve arrived at, another great precipice, and she can sense it just as well as he can. 

Once they go over this one, there’s truly no climbing up. Not privately at least. This changes everything between them, but as she watches his eyes again, she knows there’s nothing she’s wanted more badly in all her life. Save for maybe food or water on the many lonely, terrible nights on Jakku, this night with him, this experience, is the thing she has yearned for the most in the entire time she’s been alive. 

Through the bond, she can sense that he feels it, too. As he pulls back to remove his trousers, leather peeling quietly over his thighs, she thinks about everything between them that has led to this moment. If they hadn’t taken this exact path, these exact steps, would they be here? Maybe. If she’d taken his hand, they probably would’ve sunk to the floor then and there. If he’d followed her back to the Resistance it may have taken longer, may have been more of a struggle, but surely it would’ve happened eventually. 

In neither of those timelines, though, would it happen exactly like this—exactly how it was always meant to. This was how destiny itself intended it to be, how fate had written their story in the very fabric of the night sky, in the stars, and she can wish for a whole world of if-thens, but she will never feel the way she does now. 

This, when their bond is at its strongest, most potent strength yet, is what she’s been yearning for all along. 

His pants become the last thing to join the pile of clothes they’ll have to sort through later, and when she finally sees him completely bared to her, she thinks her brain short circuits. Ben is as broad and muscular as she’d expected he’d be, and she knows the shape of the upper half of his body well by now, but as her eyes sweep over the muscles of his calves, his thighs, and the v of his hips, she finds herself completely mesmerized. 

Sitting up, she reaches out to touch him, to run his hands over the pale expanse of skin, but then she catches sight of his cock, and her breath catches in her throat as she wonders how the hell he’s going to fit inside of her. Thanks to the Resistance’s communal freshers being split by a multitude of species and genders, she’s seen her fair share of dicks. She’s seen large ones, small ones, and everything in between before her eyes flicked up awkwardly and her face turned beet red. Ben’s is not bigger than the biggest she’s seen, but he is rather… _well endowed_ for a human, and she finds herself blushing again as she looks at him. 

“Everything okay?” he asks softly, then she nods a little too quickly. 

“It’s fine, you’re just… are we going to fit?”

“I think the force isn’t so cruel as to bind you to me if we don’t fit together,” he says, causing her to laugh as he crawls back over her, and peppers sweet kisses on her cheeks. “But if you don’t want to, I understand.”

She nods. “I want to, I want _you_ , I just—you feel it, too, don’t you? That lingering bit of fear?”

“I do.”

“Mind helping me with it?” she asks, then he laughs again—they both do—as she wraps her legs around his hips, and pulls him closer. 

“I can,” he replies, then she watches him take his cock in hand, and line it up with her entrance. Both of them gasp in a mixture of shock and pleasure as his tip touches her skin, and he presses one last kiss to her lips before he begins to push a little further inside. 

Swears leave them both as Ben enters her, as she feels him slowly fill her in a way she hadn’t known she wanted or needed to be filled. Looking into his eyes, she knows he feels it too, and one of her hands falls to his cheeks, thumb stroking it gently as he pushes in until she grunts uncomfortably, and they both nod, acknowledging that they’ve found their limit. 

Giving her one last smirk, Ben leans in, and kisses her firmly, their lips moving together as he pulls his hips back, and their bodies find a rhythm, moving in tandem as the world spins around them. 

One of her hands falls into the space beside them, and his chases after it, their fingers lacing together as he thrusts into her again. She can feel his thumb brush over the golden band of her wedding ring, doing so multiple times as if he is trying to bury himself in the illusion that he is really married to her as much as she is. 

For this one, shining moment, it really feels like they’re married, like they’ve had a wedding ceremony and she has taken his name, and the clothing they’ve stripped off is wedding garb. Fittingly enough, they were wearing black and white, which certainly does neither of them any favors in believing this could ever be a lie. She doesn’t mind that, though, she knows they don’t need vows or any sort of pomp and circumstance to declare them bound. The force itself has their souls—their _destinies_ —intertwined. 

A small cry escapes her against his mouth as he hits a spot deep inside of her, their kisses growing rougher in the aftermath as she realizes that no matter what happens between them, how the war ends, they have this. Their souls are already bound by this string of fate without their hands needing to be, though one day, she very much hopes they’ll be able to do that, too. 

She comes out of this daydream to the sound of the headboard thumping against the wall, and she laughs as Ben pulls back from their kisses to take a breath, causing him to look down at her curiously as she continues laughing helplessly. “What’s so funny?” he asks, mercifully never letting up in his thrusts, allowing her to feel herself growing closer to a second orgasm as he speaks. 

“The bed frame,” she replies breathlessly, reaching back with her other hand to rattle it further into the wall. “We’re the ones moving it now.”

This time he’s the one who laughs, thrusting a little deeper as she sighs beneath him, shouting his name a little louder than is necessary as they both let loose helpless giggles, finding joy amongst the sea of emotions welling within them. A tiny pinch of spite has made them jubilant, and even as they slip back into the rhythm of it and Ben starts kissing her again, that joy remains strong in her veins as she moves her hips in time with his, meeting him thrust for thrust as they build one another toward what she hopes is a shared climax. 

When it does happen, the kiss breaks, and Rey feels herself tumble over the edge first, head falling back into the pillow as she clutches his hand for dear life. He follows shortly after, calling out for her as they fall apart together, sheer ecstasy washing over their connection as pure energy swirls around them, the force itself seeming to sing as they come together. 

Coming down from that high, she feels more bound to him than ever, and as their eyes meet, as she senses the wanting and longing in them, she knows he feels it, too. Whether they ever actually get married or not, this felt like a consummation, and she’s not sure anything after this can ever compare. 

Reaching beside herself with her free hand, she finds his, fingers covering the band he’s claimed as his wedding ring as they both breathe hard, panting from the exertion of what they’ve just done. “Can we save these?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow as he pulls out of her, then rolls over into his side, pulling her into his arms as he listens to her question. “You know, for later?”

“Yes,” he replies, then he laughs to himself. “They were expensive.”

Both of them get a tiny chuckle out of this, then he leans forward, and kisses her again, pulling her on top of him just as a banging sounds from the other side of the wall, and vaguely, they can hear the sound of a voice yelling, “Shut up!” Shortly before they collapse into more laughter. 

“Yeah, Rey, shut up,” he whispers, causing her to smack his chest just before she kisses him again, slow and lazy, like she doesn’t actually intend for it to go anywhere. 

He returns it with the same intent, and she melts into it as he reaches around, and pulls the sheets over their tangled bodies, warming them both as cool air descends upon them in the aftermath of their heated consummation. She smiles against his lips, feeling him do the same as he shifts them again, and his weight is pressing into her once more. 

Once upon a time, she’d thought that being pinned beneath him would feel suffocating, like she was losing some sort of battle. She finds, though, as it actually happens, that beneath Ben Solo, beneath the man her soul shares a half with, she is completely, utterly _free._

_*_

The next morning she awakes to find Ben’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her close against him as one of his hands cups her left breast, and the other is splayed out over her abdomen, fingers wrapping around her waist. His legs are also tangled with hers, and she can’t quite tell which limbs belong to who yet, but she’s still too blissed out and love drunk to care. All she knows is that this feels nice, every part of it feels amazing, especially the way his face is buried in the back of her neck, hot breath warming her as he dozes on peacefully. 

A pure energy is reflected between them in the bond, and she realizes that this is how it feels to be perfectly content, to find happiness. It’s a preview of a life she could have one day, of what they’ll wind up waking up to when the war is over and they’ve both gotten the chance to move on. 

She wants it so badly, she’s so close to just abandoning everything and asking him to disappear with her to somewhere far away and forgetting this war exists, but she can’t do that. The last of her restraint forbids it, and so she holds the hand over her abdomen, sighing as she feels Ben come into wakefulness, and instantly a kiss is pressed to the base of her neck where it meets her spine. 

He’s barely awake, still half trapped in the realm of dreams, but he’s already showing her gestures of devotion and love. 

This marriage started out as a lie, but _kriff_ , it feels more and more real by the minute. Leaving him later today, abandoning this illusion, is going to hurt, but at least she’ll have her memories—at least she’ll have his promise of making this reality when it’s all over. 

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance I could convince you to come with me today, could I?” she asks softly, then the hand she’s holding over her abdomen clings to her a little more tightly as the kisses on her neck and spine stop. 

“I can’t,” he replies, then she feels him kiss her again. “I don’t suppose _I_ could convince _you_ to do the same?”

She laughs. “I suppose we’ll have to meet somewhere in the middle. Rendezvous once a month or so until it’s over?”

“You’d want to meet me again?”

“Didn’t I make that obvious last night?”

“I… I just thought…”

She untangles their legs, then turns around in his arms, and breathes in deeply as she pulls him into a kiss, her hands twining into his hair as she lets him know beyond all doubt that she wants to have this again. She wants to have _him_ again. This wasn’t a one-time thing, it wasn’t a lapse in judgment or feelings, but it was a genuine moment of connection that she craves more of in spite of knowing she shouldn’t. 

Unlike last night, the kisses never lead to any further entanglement—in spite of their nudity—but Ben still carries a conversation with her through each one nonetheless. It becomes an acknowledgment that even though they will not fall asleep together tonight, they will fall asleep together _someday._ They’re playing a game of risk with time and fate, but both of them know that to push this too far now would mean to lose each other forever. 

They are leaving today with rings that symbolize the binding of two souls to one, that symbolize the bond between them, and though they’ll have to conceal them for fear of someone learning what they’d done, she’s grateful to have them anyway. She’s glad they’re talking again, and that now, when the force connects them, she can kiss him in private if she wants to instead of pointedly ignoring him. 

A part of her still hates him—hates the part that is Kylo Ren—but the part that is Ben Solo? That part she loves with every cell of her body. 

One of their stomachs rumbles in that moment, and it takes her a second too long to realize it’s hers. Both of them sigh as they break apart, then Ben frowns as she pulls away from him, and casts aside the sheets before making her way to the pile of clothing they’d discarded the night before. “Where are you going?”

“To grab us breakfast,” she says, then she shucks on her trousers, grabbing her breast band shortly thereafter, and working to bind her chest. “Stay here, I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

“I could go with you?” he asks, and as she reaches for her shirt, she notes an almost boyish innocence to his features as they offer her a shy smile, and she sees all over again how she could easily fall for him even without the bond. 

She shakes her head as she puts her shirt on, then grabs at the next piece of fabric, quickly realizing its not the fabric she usually drapes around herself, but not particularly caring as she plops his sweater into her hands, and grins at him. “No, I want to get the chance to look at you like this one last time when I return.”

A scoff leaves him. “And I don’t get the same?”

“You were too slow,” she says, pulling his sweater over her head as she winks at him, then pulls on her boots, tying up the laces before she walks back to the bed. 

“I won’t be next time,” he says, and since she’s still not one hundred percent certain they’ll _get_ a next time, it’s very nice to hear. 

She can’t help beaming at him as she crawls onto the mattress with her hands, and leans down to press a short, but passionate kiss to his lips. “I’ll be right back,” she promises him, then she pushes herself away, and heads down to the lobby to steal as much food as she can carry. 

If this is to be their last morning together for a while, Rey is going to ensure they have a good and proper feast. 

*

Breakfast passes by far too quickly. Before she knows it the plates she stole from the hotel lobby are empty, and though her stomach is full, she feels quite the opposite. Through the bond, she can sense that he feels the same, and so once the meal is over they both stand up from the bed, and as the sun rises over the city around them, they hold each other, both clinging to their memories as the last minutes they have together pass them by. 

“Should we leave together?” Rey asks quietly, sniffling as she buries her face in his chest—now clothed in the tunic he always wears even though she is holding onto his sweater. 

“If we don’t part soon, we’ll never leave each other, and I don’t know about you, but my ship is parked a good distance from here,” he replies, his hand gently stroking her hair. “One of us should walk out, then the other can follow a minute later.”

She nods, rubbing her hands up and down the expanse of his back as she breathes him in, inhaling the scent of him as if committing it to memory. “That’s a good plan.”

Ben sniffles, then she feels him rest his chin over her head. “I’ll miss you.”

“And I you,” she says, then she laughs. “Do you want this sweater back?”

Another round of laughter passes between them, then he pulls back, and shakes his head as he smiles at her, and she becomes entranced all over again. He could keep the sun burning, she thinks, the sun and all the stars. “No, keep it. I have plenty of them,” he tells her, then he cocks his head in the direction of her still abandoned drapes. “Can I keep those?”

“Yes,” she replies. “I have plenty of them, too.”

He gives her a solemn laugh, then he wraps them around his neck so that he’s wearing them like a scarf. It should look ridiculous, the combination of white and black, but she finds it just makes him look weirdly adorable. For once, she doesn’t hate it when he puts the leather gloves on his hands, because it just looks like he’s taking a stroll outside on a winter day. It looks like he’s going to come back to her a minute from now and this worry over their separation means nothing. 

“If it had to end, at least it ended like this,” Ben says, then he steps into her space again, running his hands down her arms. “I never thought I’d get the chance to see you in my clothes.”

Scoffing, she realizes all over again that he truly is his father’s son—right down to the way he flirts and the look in his eyes. He’s loosened up around her, and though she knows that this is just a preview, just a glimpse of what their life could be, it’s remarkable to know that what her future has in store for her—assuming they manage to survive this kriffing war—and she finds herself oddly at peace with the separation, but also determined to finish the fight now more than ever. 

“I’ll see you on the other side of the war, Supreme Leader,” she tells him, figuring she could give him hell for the title just one more time.

Humming to himself, he leans in, resting a hand on her cheek as he whispers, “I’ll see you on the other side of the war, Mrs. Ren.” Then he leans closer, moving as if he intends to kiss her. 

She places a hand on his chest to stop him, living for the shock that forms in his eyes. “Please, if I ever married you, there’s only one name I’d take.”

“What’s that?”

“I already told you, Solo, or perhaps if you want to go further back than that…” She looks into his eyes, lips twitching into a smirk. “Skywalker. A name rooted deep in your family. Solo or Skywalker, but never Ren. Not in a million years.”

Smirking, his face slowly begins to morph back into that mask she hates so much, and she sees slivers of Kylo Ren slip back into place as he prepares to leave, but she’s ready for it this time. What does surprise her, thought is the way he hesitates, the way he clings to being Ben Solo for just a little longer. “Then I’ll see you on the other side,” he says, taking one of her hands in his, and kissing it softly. “Mrs. Solo.” He kisses her again, turning her hand over so that his lips press tenderly against her palm. “Skywalker.” Another kiss, this time on her wrist. “Whoever you decide to be.”

“Depends on how soon you—“

She doesn’t get to finish that sentence. Before she can, Ben’s hand lands on her cheek, the one still holding hers tugging on it so he can pull her in as he leans close, and presses his lips to hers. 

There isn’t a single second of hesitation as her arms wrap around his shoulders, her hips pressing against his as he pulls her in closer, kissing her with a desperation she knows well. She’s kissing him with that same feeling running through her veins, because like him she fears that this will be the last time, that they won’t get another chance to hold one another, to kiss again. 

Rey kisses him like she’s starving, like she’s been held back for years even though they’d just made love last night. They have just gone the distance for each other, and yet somehow she hasn’t had enough. She knows she’ll never have enough, and so she takes what she can, her hands burying themselves in his hair again because it’s probably her favorite part of him. She loves the way her fingers get lost in his raven tresses, and she knows she’ll never get enough of it. 

_I love you_ , she thinks in the bond, and she feels him smile against her lips. He knows, they both know how she feels, and as his lips move with hers, she senses a similar feeling of warmth, like the sun is shining on her face, followed by a soft undercurrent of that fuzzy feeling she gets in her stomach when she looks at him. 

It doesn’t take her long to figure out that it means something, that he’s just told her _I love you, too_. He didn’t say it and neither did she, but they are both aware of it, they can now look up at the sky, search for each other in the stars and know that somewhere out there in that great abyss, someone loves them. 

She pulls away, and he looks at her like she is his entire galaxy. The only part of his face that isn’t back under the mask right now is his eyes, and in them she can see the depth of what he feels for her; what he’s _always_ felt for her. 

“Write your vows, Rey,” he tells her, then he starts to step back, but his hand grips hers and for a few steps, they move together, their every step in perfect synchrony. “We’re going to end this war.”

“And you write yours,” she replies, feeling as if somehow they’re already making them just by saying these things to each other. It feels like their own private ceremony, like they’re quietly marrying each other with this goodbye. 

Rey hates that this is goodbye, that they’re both about to go back to their respective sides and be at war again, but she knows they need to finish this, they need to fight this war and end it so they can move on. Once they end this, these vows they’re making to each other can become real, and though she feels as if their souls are already wed, she wants to be physically married to him as well. 

“I will,” he promised her, then he bends at the waist, pressing her fingers—including the one with a ring on it—to his lips ever so briefly before he lets go of her hand, and slowly backs toward the door. “Mrs. Solo.”

Her breath hitches, then he gives her one last smirk, and makes his way from the room, leaving her completely speechless as she processes what’s just happened. Ben loves her, he wants to be with her, and in all her attempts to bring him back to the light, she’s never come so close. Sure, he still hasn’t come back with her and they both know that if one of his generals takes over the order things will be a thousand times worse, but this is a big step. It means he’s going to come back to her someday, that soon, they’ll be in each other’s arms and she’s going to have a last name she can take pride in. 

All that’s left to do is end this war, and for him? She’ll end it with her bare hands if she has to, and as she makes her way from their hotel room, heading toward the lifts, she knows she’s going to succeed.


End file.
